Means Necessary
by Zute
Summary: Duncan sees a quick end to the Blight. He does what is unspeakable, but necessary. Major character deaths, but in 800 words you won't be too attached to them This was an answer to the 10-minute challenge on Cheeky Monkeys of Dragon Age to just write for 10 minutes. I stole part of the plot idea from another story I'm planning and twisted it to the dark side. Rated T for violence.


"By whatever means necessary," Duncan said, his voice deep but quiet. "It has ever been the way of the Grey Wardens."

"But this... This is monstrous!" Alistair turned away from Duncan, unable to look at the man, his idol, his hero, his savior. He couldn't believe he was proposing such a thing.

Duncan turned away, sadly. "I regret its necessity. But this could be the shortest Blight ever. How many will die if we flinch in our mission?"

Stunned, Alistair staggered over to the campfire and sat down. "And if it fails?"

"Then we must try something else."

"I can't... This is too horrible." Alistair buried his face in his hands and wept.

A grown man, crying like a broken-hearted boy. It tore at Duncan, but an even deeper wound was opened by the beautiful girl, unmoving now, but bound in chains to a rock. She'd taken the same oath they all had. They'd sworn themselves to a duty that required sacrifice, sometimes the ultimate sacrifice. This girl had been given to the Wardens by her father, to repay a debt. Only Duncan had known her purpose even as he asked for her. The girl had done her duty and, by the Maker, he would too.

He stood at the lip of the subterranean trench and roared, "Urthemiel!" The terrible name ripped out of his throat as a challenge, an invitation. "Accept this sacrifice!" Was this how the ancient Tevinters had done it? He had no idea, he only hoped the tainted old god would remember.

His offering was heard above the marching hoard, the bellowing ogres, and even the thunderous roaring of the archdemon himself. A giant form flew across the wide expanse of the Deep Trenches and perched on a rocky outcropping.

"Go, Alistair!" Duncan urged his recruit. "Whatever happens, I won't survive this." _I can't survive this. _The guilt would destroy him if the dragon didn't.

"No! You can't! You just can't die. You can't feed that girl to the archdemon. This won't solve anything." The boy looked at him with reddened eyes.

"I ordered you to go. Now go!" Duncan's voice was still ragged from his challenge to the archdemon.

"At least..." Alistair sobbed. "At least tell me she won't experience pain."

"She's beyond pain. For the last time, go!"

Alistair turned and began a slow, stumbling run up the path leading away from the Deep Trenches. He turned one last time to watch as the archdemon landed where they had camped. The dragon looked curiously at the girl chained to the rock, then its head shot forward and he snapped her in half.

The hideous sight of the half-eaten girl was the last Alistair saw of her. He staggered into an alcove and vomited.

The dragon gave a tremendous roar, then another. A thousand lutes being smashed would not have been more discordant than the archdemon's final roar.

Duncan smiled grimly. Not that terrible of a way to go, he mused. Better than fighting darkspawn until they overwhelmed you. Better than being turned into the sort of horror they used for breeding. Death was a gift he had given the girl, that he would give himself. His guilt would be short-lived. The poison he'd fed her killed her in seconds. It might have only caused a stomach ache for the archdemon, but he'd held her mouth open and forced much more of it down her.

What happened next should be fascinating, he thought. Who dealt the death blow? Him or the dead girl? He chuckled darkly at his morbid curiosity while the archdemon writhed and spewed black ichor. Then he chuckled again at his own unexpected acceptance of death. Who knew it would be such an amusing thing?

As the monster's death throes began to quiet, he had his answer as to how he would die. _  
_

Alistair turned just in time to see the small, distant figure of Duncan encased in a glowing white light and then erupt in an immense explosion.

"Duncan!"

He fell to the ground and sobbed again, for the girl, for Duncan, everyone he'd loved and lost. It was a long time before he was able to stand again. When he did, he walked over to the remains of his commander and, somewhere in that gory wreckage, a girl, practically a princess. He stared at the bloody mess unable to act.

Eventually he came back to himself. He placed a rose at the spot where her feet had been.

The Fifth Blight was over.

~o~o~o~

**Notes: **I borrowed the poisoning the dragon idea from a wonderful story I read decades ago. I don't remember the author, the title, just the plot. A big burly dragon slayer was humbled by his inability to slay a dragon, but a wily alchemist poisoned the virgin sacrifice and thus poisoned the dragon. Hmm... they're just big flying rats, right? :)

Anyway, thanks for reading. Leave a review. Criticism always welcome.

I should mention that 10-minutes was for sneezing out the story. Cleaning it up took some additional time.


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